[Manchester—Sunday, 16 August 1868]

Sunday. J. went indeed but Whittier had just left for the Isle of Shoals. We have had a week of perfect weather cool, with glorious sunshine—today the soft clouds have again overspread the sky and it rains.

Robert Collyer of Chicago passed yesterday with us. He gave us many charming anecdotes hoping to cheer dear C.A.B. among which one of the old time when they impressed men into the British Naval service was touching enough. He said a poor Yorkshire woman had sent her husband out one night after dark with a mug to get some yeast. He was seized and carried off to sea and was gone seven years. At the end of that time he was set down in the dusk of evening in his native town. He looked about him a moment, then went and bought a mug precisely like the old one, got it full of yeast and carrying to his own cottage door said to his wife who was standing there “Here’s yer yeast, lass.” “Eh mon, I knew ye’d bring it as soon as ye cud”!

Mr. Collyer was full of stirring healthy spirit and tried to infuse something of it into C.A.B. He succeeded well enough for the day but this morning he is again crumbly.

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